Perfect to Imperfect
by poetandguide
Summary: Tim always thought that he was a very logical person. But around Dick he is anything but. One-sided DickTim. Brotherly DickTim Robincest. Rated T for sexual themes


AN: Just a little maybe not so little fic I wrote based off of a quixoticlimn (tumblr) comic. The idea was that due to Tim's unwarranted crush on Dick, he mishears what Dick says to him sometimes because he's so distracted. Originally it was just going to be a few instances of just Tim reacting to different things that Dick says. But then it didn't feel finished and then I just kept writing and then... yeah. Anyway, please enjoy.

Tim tried hard to focus on his training. Really he did. But… how was he ever supposed to do that in the same room as Dick while he was training too?

Tim would never describe himself as petulant and often thought that certain types of idioms such as, "It's not fair," were ineffective; especially since he was a ward to the world's greatest detective.

But he really couldn't find better words to describe how frustrated he was with himself at how distracted he could get.

It wasn't fair.

Dick's arms were too strong. His eyes were too blue. His hair was too black. His smile had too much white teeth to it. Dick was too perfect in practically every way.

Dick was just too much to handle.

"Hey, Timmy!" he heard Dick call.

When Tim looked, Dick was doing a handstand on the top of the higher of the uneven bars.

"Um… Y-yeah?" Tim made a mental note to fix this situational stutter that he had developed around Dick. At this rate, Dick might actually think he had a stutter.

"Aren't you going to train too? Or…?" Dick paused as a slightly Puckish smile spread across his face. "are you just going to sit there and watch me?"

Tim couldn't really tell his thoughts from his articulations at that point. He'd wanted to keep certain things like, "Dick stop doing these things to me," or, "I can't get over how pretty you are," or "Yes, I am just going to sit here and watch you because HOT DAMN THAT ASS!" But Tim couldn't really guarantee if any one of those things were completely locked firmly inside his head. What he did say could've been a mumbled combination of all of them.

"Dick, don't… things….pretty…ass."

"You better speak up there, Tim! Couldn't hear you."

Tim, thankfully, has a short refractory period… in terms of mental capability. Not in terms of… anything sexual. He can get the thinking rational part of his brain back online quickly. That was what he meant when he uses those terms in his head.

He quickly thought of a less incriminating answer.

"I was just… resting for a little. That's all."

"If you want I can take you to bed."

"Yeah… okay that sounds… wait what was that last part again, Dick?"

"Uhmm… I said that if you want you can go to bed."

"Oh. Uh, no. I'm not that tired. I just… you know… I'm going to do some lifting now."

As Tim walked toward the weight training area he heard Dick call out, "Well, okay, Timmy. If you're sure. Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

"Okay."

Tim purposefully went to a machine that would be facing him away from Dick. As Tim started his weight training, he once again let his mind wander. It would inevitably wander to Dick. Then it would jump to the question of why he was so fixated on Dick. Then it would wander to when this fixation had started.

It was few months ago when Tim had this sneaking suspicion that he had developed… feelings for his trainer/predecessor/mentor/possible-future-boyfriend… wait…

To be completely honest, Tim wasn't too surprised with himself anymore.

It had started with admiration. Simple admiration. Robin was everything he had wanted to be when he was a kid. A quick thinker, a born leader, and practically a perpetual sass-machine. He didn't have to worry about going out and staying past curfew because Batman didn't have a curfew and Robin always worked with Batman (although later Dick had shared with him a number of times where he had been grounded at that age for some "minor misdemeanors"). He was a kid but he could keep up with the Batman. Physically, cognitively and any other adverb ending in -ly that would fit in this situation.

And it was around that magical time known as puberty where these feelings became less than innocent. At this stage in human development, hormones kick and aid in the alteration of the human body making it more apt to procreate and more responsive to the most desirable mate.

Tim had been rather perturbed by these pleasantly burning sensations in his lower stomach and had done extensive research on why humans had these feelings.

Most of his research had boiled down to, "Humans' feelings are a result of evolution. The sexual desires of humans are what perpetuate the species. The two strongest urges a human has are preservation of self and preservation of the species. Ie) hunger and sexual intercourse" and "Homosexuality is natural and has been proven to exist in many species. You are not wrong."

Tim hadn't really been taught one way or the other on this subject so he accepted it. What he couldn't accept was why he had to develop feelings for someone like Dick. There were many other attractive people in his life that he could have easily fallen for.

But why Dick? Why was Dick so special?

Tim had then gauged his emotions and… physical responses to things that Dick did. For him, around him, to him; anything that Dick did Tim would observe and record along with his reaction to see if he could find a pattern.

And lo and behold, there really wasn't one. There was a common denominator so to speak which was essentially Dick. In fact, that was the only pattern.

Anything that Dick did made Tim temporarily lose his sanity and the rationality that he had been so proud of since the time his father had praised him on how he could "always keep a level head." Sometimes the Broca area in his brain would cease to function. It would shut down for long drawn out seconds that should have been filled with some kind of verbal response from him but he just couldn't get anything out.

You'd think that since he fell for this reasonable person, he would in turn become more reasonable. But…. That wasn't exactly what would happen.

This crush would sometimes alter his perception of things. Tim had concluded that it was this crush that caused these anomalies because he had gotten his hearing and eyes checked systematically for every other week for two months. He had perfect hearing. Threshold for his right ear was 5 and threshold for his left ear was 0. He had perfect sight. It was 20/20.

Why would he sometimes hear things that weren't being said?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Hey, Tim. You always feel so good and tight when I'm inside you."

"I… I'm sorry, Dick. Could you repeat that?"

"Huh? Oh sure, Timmy. I said, 'You're always so good in a tight situation. I can always count on you'."

"R…Right. Sure. Thanks, Dick."

"Hey, I mean it, Tim." Dick placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you ever doubt that."

Tim looked up at Dick trying exceedingly hard to keep a blush from forming on his face. He smiled and said, "Th-thanks. It means a lot."

Dick smiled and clapped him on the shoulder as he sauntered off. Tim tried really hard not to look at his "older brother's" ass. Then again the term "tried" has a connotation of failure…

But he needed to stop before he could give Dick any more reason to think that Tim thought of his predecessor as something more than an older-brother figure. Tim had read his fair share of love stories (for research purposes only; never for recreational purposes) and none of those types of one-sided romances ever ended well.

_Just quit while you're ahead, Tim,_ he would tell himself. _Cut your losses before you get hurt._

:::::::::::

Another side-effect to these feelings he's developed for Dick, Tim had become quite delusional. In any other part of his life, he wasn't. He could calculate what to expect and he had a good solid 93.5% accuracy rate. But it was different with Dick.

Ideas would just pop up in Tim's mind. They would be fictitious and fantastic even. They had no place ever happening in reality and so why Tim would even think of them was a bit of a mystery.

Tim only thought about possibilities. Realistic possibilities to be more precise. Anything beyond that realm of believability should be immediately rejected.

So why would he entertain these fantasies?

:::::::::::::::::::

It was Jaime's birthday. The team decided to have a little party to throw him. It wasn't anything special. It was just the team with cake and some extra food prepared. And Cassie and Megan had insisted on decorating along with Garfield. In fact, Garfield was more excited about decorating than anything.

They had all surprised Jaime and Jaime was… surprised. Happily, they'd all hoped. The entire team was there except for Nightwing. He had some business in Bludhaven to deal with and had promised to be there just as soon as he could.

Plus, it wasn't like Tim was painfully aware of his absence or anything. It wasn't like Dick's absence caused an unpleasant prickling sensation in his neck and back that could only be alleviated once Dick entered the room. Once Tim caught a glimpse of Dick's gorgeous white smile…

He wished Jaime a happy birthday and got himself some cake and sort of stood in the circle of conversation. His mind was wandering. Not to anywhere or anyone in particular mind you. Just elsewhere. He was so distracted that he didn't even know he dropped his fork until Conner tapped him on the shoulder and told him he did.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"No. Fine," Tim replied.

He looked around the floor for his missing fork and found that it had fell under the table. Tim put his plate on the table and got down on his hands and knees to retrieve the fork. He had to crawl a little bit in order to reach the fork.

He was just about to retrieve it when he heard what was unmistakably Dick's voice call out, "Now I would love a piece of that!"

Tim would've immediately stood up and whirled around if not for the table top in his way. However he did bang his head pretty hard and hoped that the bump wouldn't be too big.

He crawled out from under the table and turned around to see Nightwing looking straight at him. He couldn't help the blush and he started to stutter. "Wh-I-d-wha-d-d-I… huh?"

Nightwing was coming towards him and he didn't know what to do with himself. Was Dick going to take his hand and lead him someplace where they could be alone? Was he just going to pick him up like he sometimes did and carry him off to his room down the corridor? Or… Oh God, was he not going to take them anywhere and just… do it right there?

But as it turned out, Nightwing wasn't talking about him. He was talking about the cake because Nightwing just sort of strutted toward the table, ruffled Tim's hair and got a piece of cake.

Tim didn't know whether to feel ashamed, relieved or disappointed.

At Tim's clearly flustered and slightly wanting look that no amount of domino mask could hide, Nightwing turned around and looked at Tim.

With a genial smile, Nightwing asked, "Something you need, Robin?"

"No. Nothing, Nightwing. Thank you." As quickly and as awkwardly as a running ostrich, Tim got the hell out of there.

Tim sat on his bed where he thought about how growing out of this teenage lust haze will be the best thing that will ever happen in his life. Because he will grow out of it, he didn't need to worry about it. He didn't. He just needed to wait and not call attention to his emotions... He just needed to wait and not call too much attention to his emotions… that's all.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

But the absolute worst thing that could ever happen, the stuff that nightmares consisted of, was that one day this silly little crush would negatively impact a mission.

And a few days ago, Tim learned that Murphy's Law proved true…

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tim could blame Killer Croc. In fact, for a few minutes after it happened he did. It was a conspiracy. Had to be. How else would the super-villain have known to claw at Nightwing in just the right spot to not only tear off pieces of Dick's armor but at the same place Tim gets reduced to a quivering pile of goo whenever he accidently glances at it.

Dick's torso.

Some humans prefer certain areas of the body. Some call it a fetish. People have foot fetishes or neck fetishes. Tim also recalls that some people really like noses for some reason. But for Tim, if he was allowed he could stare at bellies and chests all day. They were just really nice to look at.

But… right now… in the middle of a mission, Tim would've very much liked to have been operating on a normal rational human level, thank you very much.

But alas, quivering pile of goo it was.

Tim didn't notice that Killer Croc noticed his inattention. He vaguely registered that Dick caught sight of him staring stupidly at his naked and kind of bleeding chest. He didn't notice that Killer Croc had his eyes trained on him. He did, however, notice Killer Croc's battle cry and the fact that he was charging at him when it was too late for him to do anything.

Then Tim felt those claws for himself. There were only three lacerations. As far as Tim could tell, no vital organs were hit. It just looked bad because the cuts were kind of maybe a little bit deeper than what he would've liked to have seen after a mission. That one in the middle might need stitches. Perfect.

Tim's attention was ripped from his wounds and focused on Killer Croc that was currently getting a mouthful of Nightwing's roundhouse kick. Then while Killer Croc was recovering from the staggering blow, Dick in one fluid motion spun, knelt and swiped a leg underneath Killer Croc to kick his legs out from under him. The super-villain fell and landed with a pretty loud thud. The bang to his head was hard enough to knock him out.

It was beautifully executed and perfect. Just like Di-

"Uh… Robin? That inhibitor collar would be really useful right about now."

"R-right. Sure. Sorry."

As Tim walked over to a KO'd Killer Croc, his face burned. It hurt even. The pit in his stomach and this uncomfortable and prominent nauseous feeling; Tim was familiar with these feelings. Shame, to put it bluntly. That terrible feeling that you've done something wrong. That someone has reason to be disappointed in you and probably is.

Tim never wanted to be a source of disappointment. He didn't want to be the one that mentors had to keep an eye on. He wanted to be the one where mentors… the Justice League could count on him to make important decisions. To be able to lead a squad and successfully complete a mission.

Standing there and staring at Dick didn't help his cause. It didn't help anyone… except for Killer Croc but he was a bad guy.

Dick and Tim didn't speak to each other as they waited for the cops to arrive. Sometimes Tim would hear Dick inhale then pause like he was about to say something but then exhale a soundless sigh.

Tim wouldn't look at Dick. He didn't want to see that disappointment that he was 86% sure was there. The other 24% could probably be attributed to worry. It would probably be more likely that Dick had a mixture of worry and disappointment in his eyes. Dick was a caring person like that. But still, the disappointment would be there. He knew it.

Maybe he should just face Dick. Face the disappointment. That's what the hero he longed to be would do. That's what Dick would probably do. Face it head on and embrace it. Learn from it. That's what Dick would do.

But Tim couldn't bear to meet Dick's eyes. He wasn't that strong.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Tim could feel the looks that Dick has been giving him lately. They were hardly the looks that he dreamed about. Unless you count that one dream where he had confessed to Dick and Dick wouldn't speak to him after that and that other one where he messed up another mission and Dick told him to hang up the Robin suit because he wasn't cut out for it.

Dick had probably figured out about his crush ages ago. In fact, if Dick hadn't figured it out since the Killer Croc incident then Dick was probably very sick or something was distracting him. He was the first to be trained by Batman. He's had… a lot of relationships in his life and there was no way that Tim's feeble attempts to hide his attraction had been successful around someone as quick-witted as Dick.

But he never expected Dick to actually confront him about it. Or at least fully expect Dick to confront him about it. To be honest, Tim had half expected and half hoped that Dick would not bring the topic up.

"Tim… you know lately you've been acting kind of… off. Like you're distracted or something…"

Tim quickly and methodically went through all of the conceivable scenarios in his head.

One, feign ignorance. What? Me distracted? Ridiculous. Ludicrous even! That wouldn't work for too long. If Dick was confronting him about it, then Dick was sure he knew what was going on. And if Tim wouldn't own up to it Dick would probably get frustrated after a while of trying to goad Tim into giving something away that he really didn't want to give away. And that might lead to some embarrassing remarks from Dick.

Two, denial denial denial. What? Harboring romantic feelings for you? No! Never! Why would I ever fall for someone as beautiful and perfect as yourself? But that might only prove to quicken the process of heightening Dick's frustration until the older man states some other quite embarrassing remarks.

Three, tell part of the truth. Tell Dick that, sure, lately he's had a crush on him but now he's completely over it. No need to worry. Everything's right with the world. This might work. If it had been anyone else he definitely could've pulled it off. But not Dick. Around Dick, Tim was a terrible liar. Around Dick, he wore his heart on his sleeve and might as well have been wearing a big neon sign that said, "Hey! I'm gay for Dick Grayson!"

Four, own up to it and hope for the best. Dick is considerate. Tim would never imagine Dick shunning him for going through this phase of… whatever it was. It's normal, isn't it? To develop completely inappropriate crushes that would never turn into something serious and long-lasting. It happens all the time. Dick would understand. He would. He's Dick.

Tim took a gulp. Metaphorically speaking, he was trying to swallow his nervousness and just fess up. Actually speaking, he was swallowing down his nervous bile that left a shuttering bitterness in his mouth.

"I… I have been distracted, Dick. I'll try- I won't let it interfere with another mission. I promise."

Dick shook his head and placed a hand on Tim shoulders. "That's not what we're here to talk about. We've all made our fair share of mistakes. We just need to make sure that we don't mess up too bad." Dick had added that last part with a smile that made Tim both happy to be alive and wanting to crawl in a hole and stay there for the rest of his life.

"Then what are we here to talk about, Dick?"

"You tell me, Timmy. What's been on your mind?"

Tim looked up at Dick then down at his shoes. Then he looked at the wall to his right then to his left. He chanced a look at Dick again then immediately regretted it when he saw a knot of concern twist his beautiful mouth into a frown.

_Come on, Drake,_ he thought. _Just spit it out. You're only prolonging you're embarrassment._

"P…please don't take this the wrong way but I… m… may have developed… developed feelings… for you."

After that it was a whole lot easier to talk. In fact, it was almost equivalent to that old fairy tale with the dancing red shoes. He couldn't stop.

"It's nothing to worry about. Really. I understand if you don't want to assign missions to me where you'll be there. Actually I'd probably do better work if we're separated. Not that I want to be separated from you. It's just that you're very distracting. Was that creepy to say? Probably. Sorry. I didn't mean to sound creepy. I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I just want you to not worry about it. Or me. I'll be fine. Wow, I kind of sounded like a jackass. Don't worry about me while you're probably freaking out. Like I'm the one you should be most worried about. Because I'm not. I just-"

Tim was interrupted by Dick calling his name. Softly and tentatively. Tim was pretty sure he'd never heard Dick use that tone before.

"Tim… it's not… we should probably, umm… talk about this more. Once-I mean-for missions-we should… umm… yeah stay separate…"

Dick's comm link went off and he gave one last hesitant glance before turning around and answering it.

"Nightwing… yeah, sure. I'll be right over."

Dick turned to Tim. He said, "That was Babs. She's got a lead for a case that's been cold for almost a year. The one with two murders with both of the victim's tongues cut out."

There was a pause. Tim could tell that Dick was leaving it open as to whether or not he could come. But if Dick had wanted or needed Tim to come… he would've just said it already.

"Yeah. Umm… you go ahead. There's still a few security codes that I need to crack. You and Babs… you do good work together."

_You guys will be fine without me,_ was what he was going to say. But that sounded too needy and too much like he'd be fishing for pity.

Dick nodded and then left without another word.

Tim stood where he was. He didn't move. Why would he? He finished cracking those codes hours ago. He didn't need to do anything. He wasn't needed.

Tim stood there and tried to think of the best day of his life. When these stupid inappropriate feelings would go away and he could be trusted again. When he could be able to not be distracted and have a clear head.

But right now he was useless. And he had to deal with that.

He furiously wiped the tears that stung at his eyes. He hated tears. They were just physical manifestations of how weak and entirely unfitted for the superhero business he was. They represented to the world his emotions. The same emotions that Bruce and Dick have taught him to never let get in the way; to never let them show so that he wouldn't give himself away. But he'd done that time and time again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

For the next week and a half, Tim decided to train. Extensively. He only left the training room if there was a mission, he had to go to the bathroom, or when Alfred insisted on him eating something because, "Really, Master Timothy, I can't have Master Bruce come home to see that I've failed in my sworn duty to keep you and Master Dick as healthy as possible." And also that one time where he nearly passed out and Barbara had to help him to his room.

"Tim," she'd said. "Maybe you should take a few days off."

"Why?" he'd asked.

"You've just been working yourself so hard, Tim. You've practically been going non-stop. I think you just need some time to clear your head."

"But training clears my head."

Barbara had furrowed her brows in a worried expression. "Training seems to be more of a distraction, Tim."

"Same thing."

"Tim, I meant that you should have time to think about how to deal with whatever you're going through."

Tim thought that he had had enough time to think. He had learned how to deal with his problems. And that was to train. It not only lessened the emotional toll this hapless ordeal had taken on him but also served to ease his conscience a little.

He was training to be better. If he could be better then he could control himself better. If he could control himself better Dick would be able to trust him again. If Dick could trust him again then Tim wouldn't feel so guilty when on missions. He wouldn't feel as if he was letting Dick down.

When he trained he didn't have to think too much. He only needed to think about how to make himself better. He didn't need to think about how his nightmares had come true.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.

"Tim, next time you see Dick… you need to talk to each other. Okay?"

How did she know the problem was Dick? Maybe Dick had talked to her. They did seem to be close. He often found them chatting to each other. It was understandable. Barbara was really pretty and intelligent and trustworthy. Of course Dick would want to talk to Barbara.

"Okay. Yeah, sure."

Barbara smiled and left the training room. And once again, Tim was alone with his thoughts.

Barbara was probably right. He needed to talk to Dick. They hadn't really talked since Tim had to spill his guts about a week and a half ago. Conversations nowadays went like:

"Hey."

"Hey."

And that was pretty much it.

It was okay though. Dick probably needed his space after Tim all but dropped that nuclear bomb into his lap and basically said, "Here. Now you get to deal with this too."

But he could wait for Dick. Tim didn't want to be pushy. He didn't want to be a jerk practically ordering Dick around. "Hey, I'm going to tell you my feelings so deal with that for a week and a half." Then, "Hey, we need to talk about this right now and you may or may not have wrapped your head around my feelings yet but too bad because I need to talk about this to ease my own guilt."

Yeah, he could wait for Dick.

Tim wanted to continue training but he thought maybe it was about time to get something to eat and rest a little. Today Alfred had only let him into the training room if he promised to take five one hour breaks and also go and sleep promptly at 10:30. If Tim didn't listen Alfred would shut off the lights to the training room and change the password to control the electrical mainframe of the manor. Can't really train in the dark.

Tim made his way through the winding corridors of the manor to the kitchen. When he finally did get there and he opened the door, he blanched and promptly turned around. He wasn't that hungry anyway. He'd get something to eat later. He didn't need to eat anything right this second anyway.

He was almost home free when Dick called him from inside the kitchen.

"Tim? Tim!"

If Dick was calling him then maybe that meant that Dick wanted to talk.

Tim turned around and met Dick's gaze. From somewhere in this big mansion a grandfather clock was ticking the seconds away. Tick Tock. Tick To-.

"Tim… do you want something to eat?"

"Um… sure, Dick."

Dick nodded gravely as if he was taking in important information for a case. They both made their way back inside the kitchen. Dick went over to the fridge and opened it.

"Not sure what you want but I think there's still some of Alfred's carrot cake. Or if you wanted food food there's stuff for sandwiches."

Tim wasn't really sure which he could stomach better. He was already in the same room as Dick which was bad enough when his feelings were a secret but now that it was a giant elephant in the room it made him sick to his stomach.

"Uh, are there any crackers? I kind of just wanted a snack."

"Oh, sure, Tim. Here let me get 'em for you."

"No, Dick, it's okay. I'll get them."

Dick was reaching up for a cabinet that was above the fridge. Tim was actually too short to reach it without a step ladder or a chair to stand on.

Dick just turned and smiled at him and said, "I'll get 'em, Timmy. Go sit down."

Tim didn't realize how much he missed that smile. When he saw that smile suddenly he felt less sick and he felt like everything was going to be okay.

Tim did as he was told and went to sit down at one of the stools next to the island. He looked at his hands when Dick turned around to get the crackers because, really, now was not the time to have inappropriate thoughts.

Tim only looked up when Dick had brought over the box of crackers and placed it in front of him. Dick then sat down next to him on one of the other stools. It was quiet. Tim could hear that grandfather clock again.

Not knowing what else to do, Tim reached for the crackers and started eating some. He chanced a look at Dick who seemed to just glance at him. They both looked away from each other quickly.

After Tim got up the nerve to look at Dick again, he grabbed the box and offered it to Dick. When Dick looked up at him, all he did was smile, put up his hand and shake his head.

Tim felt a little awkward crunching when it was so quiet. So he stopped. He thought maybe he should say something. Anything. But he didn't know what. What do you say to someone you've been crushing on for how long now and clearly does not feel the same way?

Tim supposed he could apologize for imposing his feelings on Dick like that.

"Sor-"

"Tim I-"

They'd both started at the same time. They looked at each other awkwardly. Tim was the one to recover first.

"You… you go first."

"Okay…" Dick took a breath and began.

"Tim, I'm sorry. I should've- I should've been there for you. I mean, I should've sought you out and talked to you sooner. I… guess, I guess I was scared. Not of you or-or your feelings. I just didn't want to mess up. Tim, I know that you probably don't want to hear this or it probably isn't the answer you want but I don't… feel for you like that. I mean, you…" Dick looked him in the eye. "You're like a brother to me, Tim. I'd hate it if anyone hurt you and it kills me that I probably am right now."

Tim started to speak. "It's not…" but then he choked.

Why? He knew this was going to be the answer. He was happy that Dick didn't hate him. In fact, according to Dick, they were more than friends. They were brothers. That had to account for something, right?

But just because Dick didn't return his feelings? That's enough to reduce him to sobbing?

"What's… what's wrong with me?" Tim whispered. He really hadn't wanted that to slip out. He didn't want Dick to hear it. But Dick heard it.

There were a few beats of silence and then Dick wrapped a hesitant arm around Tim's shoulders. The touch was light at first but it was still apparent. But then the touch became surer and pulled him in for a half-hug. Tim's head rested on Dick's shoulder as Dick's head rested on Tim's.

"Nothing, Timmy. Nothing's wrong with you. It hurts getting rejected, Tim. It just does. Nothing much anyone can do about it. I just…" Dick trailed off. He never finished the sentence. Instead Dick just rubbed Tim's arm until Tim's tears exhausted themselves.

When Tim calmed down and was able to speak with some dignity he said, "I… I knew that was probably going to be your answer. But I still… I still thought that you needed to know for some reason. I'm sorry for dumping this on you."

"Tim," Dick said decisively, "you've got to believe that you can tell me anything and I'll still… I'm still your brother. You could murder someone, Tim, and I wouldn't give up on you. You need help with anything and I'll be there."

That made Tim feel about ten times better. He actually felt good enough to laugh. To laugh at everything. Everything that had happened to him since meeting Dick and everything that led him to believe that Dick would never speak to him again or care for him any less because of how he felt. So he did.

Dick smiled. "Hey, I was trying to be serious and sappy here. What gives?"

"No, not you. I'm laughing more at me. And you. A little. I just- I guess, I've been kind of stupid lately."

"It happens to the best of us, Timmy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

AN: so hope you guys liked it.


End file.
